Sunday, September 05, 2004



I am writing this in a small cafe, somewhere in downtown heaven. Coffee's lousy, but cheap, and the waiter doesn't ask questions. Dial-up connection, and I keep getting bumped from the remote computer. Writing fast as I can. Here's what I know, Mullah DeNomolos ...

Weird things are afoot. The Sufis are up by 10 points, as of now. Thor is getting a team together that he says will "whup ass." It seems to involve kicking harp seals through tire swings. I believe that those are 1 point each, so we'll see. But Yahweh will have none of it. He seems satisfied to keep polishing that trophy from Jericho back in 1,459 BCE. And he says that Isaac Asimov is stalking him for his posthumous book, trying to prove there is no Yahweh. I hear this from the little girl who does his laundry.

But Buddha is worrying me. He roams the streets in the red-light district of heaven, moaning and crying, blowing his nose into the ample sleeves of his Hawaiian shirt, but won't go with any of the girls. He opens manhole covers and peers down into the clouds running through the sewers. He shouts to imaginary people down there. One of the sewer workers said he found a note in Buddha's handwriting threatening to "end it all" stuck in a storm grate. I try to talk to him, suggest gently that he should get some counseling, maybe try some meds, but he just turns his face from me and whimpers. And he was one of our best men here! I don't know what they're up to, but it's clear they can break the strongest among us with their cruel dervish ways. All hopped up on hashish, there's no telling.

Jesus and Mo were arrested again last night, I hear from Sergeant Mulligan. Drunk again, and Mo was holding a bag of pot. They were cavorting with some Falun Gong women at Jezebel's and started fighting over one of them, so the bouncer threw them out into the golden street and right into the arms of a beat cop. Yahweh'll love that. Especially since he's been bragging about what a good boy he has. I bet the shit hits the fan on this one, especially since Allah had to come down to bail out Mo and Mo tagged Jesus for the whole thing.

None of this is important, though, compared to what I hear afoot in the cafeteria at the Sufi U branch, here. Talk is, they're gonna try the forbidden experiment. Pharaoh's luscious daughter tells me that Robinson and Kaul are lost, somewhere in mud or fire or something, maybe dead, so Dean Wocklefeister has green-lighted it. Can you imagine? The forbidden experiment. The robotics, the drugs, the weather patterns, the fire of the baking kiln, the opening and closing of the portal of doom like giant lips, the journey over the Cinvet Bridge, the Chamber of 1,000 Winds, and the Belly of Osiris? My god, man. I must keep a low profile so that I can follow this. I know that I can trust you not to say anything premature.

Whatever you do, don't let Mullah Billdoug post this or we're all dogmeat. He knows about the Bulgarian Perversion.

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